


you got it (if you want it)

by kalakauuas



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, M/M, Size Kink, cheesy flirting, heith looking like Bad Bitches when they go out, lmao BARELY, move before they step on you w their balenciagas, pet names out the wazoo, they’re madly in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 23:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13692048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalakauuas/pseuds/kalakauuas
Summary: (what a) Hunk>Good morning lemondrop>Toaster strudel>Hot tamale(what a) Hunk>Check your account!! :]His boyfriend must have gotten impatient waiting for Keith to wake up, because before he can even unlock the phone, another message swoops in with a screenshot of Hunk’s banking app confirming a transfer.That’s…a lotof zeroes. If Keith wasn’t fully awake before, he is now.





	you got it (if you want it)

**Author's Note:**

> my gift for tay the absolute sweetheart, as part of the heith secret valentine on tumblr. this was not supposed to be this long, or have any porn, but my self control is abysmal. title is from (what else?) that's what I like by my mans bruno mars, and the song mentioned later is frank ocean's chanel. 
> 
> yeet

Okay, so. Keith literally just got this phone and therefore hasn’t had the chance to mess around with it, otherwise the pings his text messages make wouldn’t be this obscenely loud, rousing him harshly from his sleep. He was up so late last night that he’s still wearing the same clothes he’d put on the night before that. Gross: his neck is sticky with dried sweat.

He picks up the sleek, glass-backed phone and drops it on his face when it slips easily through his fingers. Top lip aching, Keith makes a point to grab it firmly, then squints in the near-painful brightness of his screen to try reading his texts.

**(what a) Hunk**

_ >Good morning lemondrop _

_ >Toaster strudel _

_ >Hot tamale _

**(what a) Hunk**

_ >Check your account!! :] _

His boyfriend must have gotten impatient waiting for Keith to wake up, because before he can even unlock the phone another message swoops in with a screenshot of Hunk’s banking app confirming a transfer.

That’s… _a lot_ of zeroes. If Keith wasn’t fully awake before, he is now.

“Hunk,” he’s groaning into the speaker not two seconds later, left hand yanking his disgusting hair away from his forehead. “I have a job now. You don’t need to give me that much.”

 _Or anything at all,_ he wants to add, as if Hunk doesn’t already know. He’s a smart guy who’s realized that he doesn’t need to do anything to get Keith’s company, his teasing, his longing stares—not when Keith is more than willing to give him those things for free. It’s just that, Hunk has more money than he knew what to do with, until Keith came along and nearly got his piece of shit Civic obliterated by Hunk’s way-too-expensive car. He supposes he should be grateful to that Range Rover, because if it weren’t for its top-notch brakes he probably wouldn’t have lived to see his remaining college tuition paid off—or the absolute delight on a certain someone’s face as he signed the check.

 _“Babe, that’s exactly it! You’ve been working so hard lately that maybe I just thought you deserved a little something.”_ Geez. Keith can hear Hunk smiling on the other side. He sits up, tucking in his knees so he can rest his arms on them. His lips press together, trying to suppress a little grin of his own.

“Or you’re trying to get on my good side because you haven’t called in two days,” he says. Keith gets a kick out of being difficult.

 _“Aw Keith, don’t be mean! Let me spoil you how I want,_ **_sugar_ ** ,” Hunk says, and the pet name shoots red-hot down Keith’s spine to curl in his belly. He shouts into the receiver because it’s _way_ too early to say things like that, especially when Hunk isn’t around to make something of them.

The laughter Keith gets in reply is bubbly like soda, making his shoulders slump and his chin hit his chest in defeat. Keith is only human after all, and therefore completely useless when it comes to resisting Hunk Garrett’s charms.

 _“Sorry, I’ll be home soon. And look, I’m not withdrawing it. I know your rent is due, so use it for that—you can even_ _pay some in advance.”_ Despite the light tone, there is no room for argument between Hunk’s words and Keith doesn’t have it in him to protest anymore. He should be used to this kind of thing by now.

Lip caught between teeth, he checks the time on the (also way-too-expensive) watch sitting delicately on his nightstand—Audemars, and Keith nearly had a heart attack when he’d looked it up online after Hunk had just _casually_ “forgotten” it on his coffee table after leaving for the night. Sometimes when he wears it people will double-take and ask if it’s authentic (it is), but Keith always tells them that no, just a good imitation given to him as a gift. They usually leave it alone after that.

It’s 6:13. If he hangs up on Hunk _right now,_ it means he can get another two hours of sleep before work. There’s no class for him today, but the bookstore is always open, waiting until the next time he steps in.

“Fine. I’m still putting half in my savings. And I have work soon, so I’ll talk to you later, okay? During my lunch break.” He punctuates with a yawn, eyes already drifting closed again while Hunk’s goodbye soothes him to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Admittedly, his alarm rudely blaring is a much less pleasant way to wake up compared to a hefty deposit. Sleep has his eyes all but glued together; the sound they make as he forces them open is pretty gross. He kind of regrets going back to sleep now, because it feels like another layer of sweat has settled over his body like glycerin.

Keith stumbles almost-blindly out of bed to crash against the dresser. Sluggishly, he pulls the top drawer open and grabs the first pair of underwear he sees: Versace boxer-briefs that are such a bright electric blue it’s almost embarrassing, plus a soft gray tee with his favorite ripped jeans before heading to the shower.

He’s still getting used to the idea of having two separate bottles for shampoo and conditioner, to be honest. Lance came over once with Hunk and absolutely screamed at the lone 3-in-1 bottle Keith had in his shower (“You CAN’T let him live like this, man!”) and the next day, a package got dropped off at his apartment with luxurious hair and skin products. Most of them are untouched, but he can’t say he doesn’t appreciate his hair not feeling like straw anymore. Plus, the smell of oatmeal and honey beats “Classic Clean” by a long shot.

He gets changed then all but inhales a breakfast bar before grabbing a jacket and heading to work. It’s warm enough outside to not need a hat, even if the humidity makes his damp hair dry in ringlets around his face.

“Good morning!” Allura calls from under the front counter when Keith walks through the door of _Alfor’s Books_ , the little bell at the top tinkling. She emerges with a couple rolls of receipt paper in her hand. “Oh, Keith.”

“‘Oh’?” Chuckling, Keith shucks off his jacket. “Sorry to disappoint, princess.” He’s never gonna let that nickname die. Your uncle visits you at work _one time_ and, well, the rest is history. Allura scrunches up her nose as she always does when Keith teases her like that, then tells him to go clean the bathrooms.

His shift is fairly short today, but god if the hours don’t drag their feet through the mud. No one’s even here anyways, so Keith is left behind the cash register to doodle on sticky notes in purple pen: a little lizard named Benny who wears a propellor hat. He’s drawing him flying an airplane when a book gets dropped on the counter, startling him from his focus.

He peers at the cover. _Bless Me, Ultima._ “That’s a good book,” he says.

“Yeah, someone keeps recommending it to me. I think you might know him?” That voice. Keith knows that voice, rich and syrupy; it coats him like the biggest softest blanket. It takes every ounce of Keith’s willpower to not vault over the counter and koala-hug his boyfriend.

Hunk looks down at him, impeccable in his camo jacket and dark wash jeans that hug his legs (and ass) oh so well. His hair is swept back a bit, slightly damp from the rain that’s been misting over the city all day. He looks so good—actually, better than usual because Keith hasn’t seen him in days due to his latest business trip.

Keith leans over the counter, cheek propped on his hand. “Mm, maybe. What’s he like?” he asks, coy. He can hardly contain his smile.

“He’s about yay high—” Hunk holds his hand at chin height— “Nice legs, pretty eyes? Kind of a huge nerd?” His eyes sparkle as he too leans forward, the space between him and Keith just barely work-appropriate.

“Doesn’t ring a bell, so I guess he’s not around,” Keith murmurs, allegedly pretty eyes drifting away to act like he’s thinking for a moment before returning to meet his boyfriend’s. “But I am, if that’s okay.”

“Definitely,” Hunk says and pecks Keith’s lips. Keith is sure his dopey expression is not lost on Hunk when he pulls back to grin at him, already reaching into his wallet to extract a crisp $50 bill, one of surely many pressed together inside the authentic brown leather. Yeah, he’s pretty familiar with Hunk’s wallet.

“Mm. I missed you, big man.” Keith lets his eyelashes flutter.

“I missed you too, babycakes. You’re not busy after work, right? So we can maybe… go do something?” Hunk asks, accepting the book after Keith rings it up. He looks hopeful. As if Keith would ever say no to spending time with him.

“Something…?”

“Just dress nice, I’m thinking Armani.” Hunk makes a point to roll the r in Armani way too much as his eyebrows jump up and down. Thoughtfully, he rubs his chin. Keith warms under his appreciative gaze; he has ideas of what Hunk’s imagining him in.

Quirking an eyebrow, Keith replies, “Oh, the sweatpants. Yeah, that sounds pretty good to me.” He nods knowingly and savors how Hunk rolls his eyes.

“Wearing anything _but_ those sounds better.” God, Keith loves how he looks when he’s salty.

“So, nothing?” Hunk’s eyes darken deliciously, but before he can reply with something to egg Keith on, Allura comes back with a curious expression.

“You know, Keith,” she says with a funny little smile, “There’s still half an hour left on your shift. Plenty of time to do another round of bathroom duty?” There’s no malice in her tone, but the wink that follows as she walks away again turns her suggestion into a request. Yeah, that’s probably what he gets for flirting on the job.

“Dude, what the fock,” Hunk says when she’s out of earshot, in that stupid voice that Keith always laughs at no matter what. His face is already crumpling. “She can’t do that dude. This is your space, this is your area!”

“Shut— _pfft_ —shut up!” Keith hides in his shirt collar, failing to hide how hard he’s trying not to snort with laughter.

 

* * *

 

Hunk say he’ll pick Keith up at 6. He has two hours to get ready. Two whole hours. He almost wishes it actually took him that long, so he wouldn’t have any time to get antsy waiting for Hunk.

The anticipation for every date night always leaves him buzzing, like he’s a high schooler going to prom with the cool upperclassman. Knowing Hunk, he’s got the night planned perfectly, down to every last detail. His man loves the details. It gave Keith, who’s a very big-picture end-result guy, a new appreciation for them himself.

Hm. Keith, standing in just his underwear after a second shower (to scrub off the stench of Work) looks at his open closet, filled with clothes he’s owned since high school mixed in with pieces that probably cost more than his entire net worth—courtesy of one Hunk Garrett—trying to figure out how “nice” he should look, exactly. Nice can mean anything: jeans with no rips, khakis and a button-down, a $5,000 suit. It’s a vague word and he is not a fan.

A brand new dark gray Armani parka hangs up on the inside of the door, a “little souvenir” that had been waiting for him in Hunk’s car. Keith stares at it then back to his wardrobe, then tentatively reaches for a crimson oversized sweater and a pair of black high waisted pants, still neatly-pressed. He tucks the sweater in, makes sure the pants fit just right, content with the broad lines of his shoulders and full curves of his legs. His hair gets tugged into a half-ponytail and finally, Keith clasps a long chain around his neck, with a medallion that has an engraved H on it sitting gently against his sternum.

He slips on the watch too, for good measure.

The phone buzzes in Keith’s lap when he’s curled up on a loveseat, poring over a new novel that's been sitting on his shelf for ages.

**(what a) Hunk**

_ >bls open the door for me Baby Keith <3 _

Baby Keith, Sugar Keith. Occasionally, they combine into Sugar Baby Keith and he acts like he hates it when he really… does not. It makes him feel safe and taken care of and _loved,_ which he is. Which is nice. He’s so spoiled.

Hunk laughs giddily when he sees Keith. Huge hands come to rest on Keith’s lower back, pulling him in so Hunk can press his lips to his forehead, then his cheeks, then his nose, then his chin.

“Hey, come on! You keep missing the mark!” Keith squirms in his grasp, laughing, trying desperately to get Hunk’s mouth to meet his own.

“Don’t you wuv when I kish you all _overrr,_ ” Hunk coos back before finally planting one right on the money, tender and honey-sweet.

Keith sighs into it, body melting against the huge mass that is Hunk. His hands come up to rest on Hunk’s biceps to squeeze at the generous swell before traveling along the breadth of his shoulders to loop around his neck. He can feel the warmth of one of Hunk’s palms spreading lower to cup his ass, the other spanning almost the entire half of his waist. It makes his head swim, being reminded of how small he is in comparison to his boyfriend.

There’s a little moan that escapes when Keith decides to graze his teeth against Hunk’s bottom lip, but he’s not sure who it’s from. His tongue swipes over that spot to soothe, but Hunk pulls away before it gets good.

“Not yet, babe. We gotta get dinner first,” he says, voice husky.

Right. That. Ditching their plans suddenly sounds like a great idea.

Keith tries not to pout, and it’s easy enough when he gets a good look at his man. Hunk has on a _clean_ black bomber jacket, mustard Gucci crewneck underneath, and black pants tucked into boots; a very fashionable and expensive dream. Glistening over the crewneck is a silver chain Keith saved up for for months to gift him, and the look on Hunk’s face when he opened it had made Keith feel like the best boyfriend in the world.

He puts on a pair of loafers and lets Hunk drape the parka over his shoulders like he’s a prince. If he were to say anything about it, he wouldn’t be surprised to find a crown at his doorstep the next day.

The car ride is a lot of Keith fiddling with the aux—”Sweetheart, can you just let _one song_ finish”—or staring at Hunk’s handsome profile as he drives. Their hands find each other on top of the center console, which Keith leans against like he’s trying to get as close to Hunk as possible. He always is.

“ _My guy pretty like a girl, and he got fight stories to tell…_ ” Softly, smoothly, Hunk sings along with the watery sound of the current track. He reaches over to gently bap Keith on the nose, who tilts his chin up to lick at the finger and earns himself a chuckle. “Aw, gross!”

 “You like when my tongue is all over your fingers,” Keith tells him, haughty. He didn’t mean for it to come out quite like that but he’ll roll with it. Getting Hunk hot and bothered is always fun. He makes a point of dragging his teeth over his lips while Hunk is stealing a glance. The bob of his Adam’s apple lets Keith know that he’s succeeding, the tinder to start a small fire in his belly.

“Other places, too,” Hunk says, almost like he’s thinking out loud.

Frank Ocean warbles, _“It’s really you on my mind.”_

 

* * *

 

Dim lighting is a trend in high-end restaurants, Keith has noticed, and he’s joked to Hunk that it’s so you don’t see how much you’re paying to eat crumbs.

Hunk had practically cackled at the comment. “That’s funny, Keith. Because the portions are so small,” he’d said, snickering.

“Mr. Garrett! We’ve been expecting you!” A chipper woman in a simple black dress greets them. Her smile widens as she takes in Keith next to him. They’ve been told they’re a formidable pair: small and fierce Keith next to Hunk’s huge steady presence. A seemingly odd couple until you’ve seen them in action.

“And this must be the famous Mr. Kogane,” the hostess says. “Heard a lot about you.”

Keith blooms red at the ears. “Uh, good things I hope,” he manages.

“I just tell her about _all the trouble_ you get us into, karate kid.” Hunk throws an arm around Keith’s shoulders to pull him in, smiling easily. A little scowl curls at Keith’s lips but he’s used to the teasing.

“Whatever, I like living on the edge,” he replies, face scrunched into something like mock pride.

Florona shows them to their table, tucked away in a secluded part of the restaurant, far from the prying eyes of other diners and topped with a huge bouquet of roses. It’s intimate, so romantic and private that Keith’s heart swells in his chest and breaks endless declarations of love into his ribs. Hunk treats him so well.

“Get whatever you want, Keith, it’s on me,” Hunk tells him over a glass of water, like it isn’t always on him.

Keith almost can’t resist rolling his eyes, so he keeps them trained on the menu instead. “I’m really feening for some caviar then,” he says, and Hunk laughs. They do that a lot, together.

“It’s pretty good on fried chicken, if you’re into that kinda thing.” There’s a little gleam in Hunk’s eyes and Keith grins because that’s what he likes to hear. Of course he’s into fried chicken. He’s into a lot of things: photography, hiking, getting spanked, Hunk. The list is varied and extensive but he’s always willing to squeeze in more.

A waiter comes around and Hunk makes a point to order an entire chicken and the biggest container of caviar they have because, “We’re eating good tonight!” The look he shoots Keith right after really suggests _eating good._

The food is delicious, of course, as if Hunk would have it any other way. The past months have been generous to not only Keith’s closet and home, but his thighs, his sides, his cheeks. He’d be pillow-soft if he wasn’t so dedicated to his fitness regimen, but the little extra thickness all around is still a very nice touch. Besides, Hunk has always worn softness better out of the two of them anyway.

There’s a lot to talk about between the two of them, after spending ten days on opposite sides of the country. Keith tells Hunk about his current Geomorphology class because holy shit is it cool, while Hunk recounts his horrid week of nonstop conferences. Even with such a look of bitterness and salt, Keith thinks this is the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen. He’s enthralled by the shape of his lips, begging to be kissed, and his huge hands while they gesticulate. Keith wants them all over his body.

He keeps eating, and maybe puts too much emphasis on how good the food actually is, moaning salaciously at the first bite, then making a show out of licking and sucking his fingers clean. Hunk’s ears are turning pink, but he bravely continues with his story.

“So this guy is really trying to discredit me, right, and I’m not… having it…” Despite the heaping plates set between them, Hunk looks at Keith like a starving man when all he’s doing is sipping ginger lemonade. It’s almost too easy. They’re both too easy.

As soon as Keith starts tracing Hunk’s calf with his foot, Hunk jumps enough to make the table rattle, and manages to fish out a wad of bills that he leaves on the table without counting. Keith follows suit, idly slipping into the parka.

“Let’s go, Keith—” Hunk starts, but he bumps into Keith’s back.

“Sorry,” Keith says, untruthfully. He points to an inconspicuous paper on the ground before bending down slowly to pick it up. “Dropped my straw wrapper.”

“Fuck,” Hunk growls, and it’s the hottest thing Keith has heard today.

 

* * *

 

The slam of the door is almost enough to rattle Keith’s teeth in his skull, if he paid any attention. Instead, he’s got his hands snarled in Hunk’s thick hair, moaning into his open mouth when he feels Hunk reach down to palm his ass. His grip is strong enough to raise Keith onto his toes, drifting to his thighs and pulling him up until he’s got legs wrapped around Hunk’s waist.

“You,” Hunk moves to mouth at Keith’s jaw, “are in so much trouble.” He sets Keith down on the counter, taking a moment to just _look_ and Keith feels like he’s burning up from his gaze.

He groans, heavy, using his legs to bring Hunk closer so he can roll his hips against him. “F-for what?” Fuck, he wants it so bad he can barely think.

“You know what, you tease,” Hunk breathes, still clenching at the meat of Keith’s thighs, rubbing tight circles on them that are on the right side of hurting. Keith hopes they bruise in the morning, because he loves that shit. Who doesn’t love a good manhandling?

He laughs, with a little nip at Hunk’s lips. “Yeah, I love riling you up.”

“And you’re way too good at it, baby,” Hunk murmurs fondly. He leans back in to kiss Keith again, hungry and wet. “Can’t resist you.”

His hands trail up to encompass nearly the whole of Keith’s waist—fuck they’re so big, that’s so hot—squeezing just a bit before Keith’s sweater gets yanked over his head and tossed elsewhere. The chain stays on. Hunk seals his mouth over Keith’s left nipple with a wet suck, pinching the other between rough fingers.

“ _Ahn_ —shit, Hunk!”

He’s keening, pulling Hunk’s hair to see the way his eyes flutter and covering his mouth because he likes to get fucking loud. You try keeping quiet, with a hot mouth and deft fingers like Hunk’s on you. They’re sweet, attentive, but they can be put to better use elsewhere if Hunk didn't insist on taking his time like this—

That mouth is suddenly on his other nipple, Hunk’s fingers scratching lightly down Keith’s clenching abs to press way too gently at the tent of his pants, a jolt that shoots up Keith’s spine. As quick as it happened, they’re gone and Keith _growls._

“C-come on, daddy, come _on,_ ” he chokes out, so whiny it should be embarrassing. It had been, the first time, when Hunk was blowing Keith’s back out in his king-size mattress and Keith, so far gone, had shouted _Harder, daddy!!!_ loud enough to knock some sense back into himself. The moment they’d spent gawking at each other in shock seemed endless, but after it passed they were both extremely pleased with the results.

The pressure at his cock returns when Hunk pulls off his nipple, more insistent this time but still not enough. He licks the column of Keith’s throat, laps at his Adam’s apple before nipping with teeth.

“You want more, baby?” Hunk murmurs, and starts sucking so harshly Keith can feel the blood rising under his skin.

“Yes, please,” He’s begging already, but he can’t help it. His hands are starting to shake and this is hardly the good part, he can’t wait for that.

“Fuck,” Hunk growls himself, and digs his hand into Keith’s cock to make him writhe. “You want me to fuck you on the counter?”

Oh shit, does he? Keith almost doesn’t care at this point, but he knows what he wants and he wants it now, call him a brat call him spoiled call him well-kept, all he knows right now is that he’s used to getting his way.

“Mm, bed—” Hunk is already halfway to the room, kicking the door open and tossing Keith on 1,000 thread-count sheets.

Keith reaches for the button on his pants but Hunk stops him, taking both his wrists in just one of his hands and holding them over his head, while the other pops the button open and drags down the zipper to peel them off. Keith is moaning, shamelessly hot at the sight of Hunk being so good with his hands like always.

“Oh, baby boy, you didn’t,” Hunk breathes, almost in awe when he sees that Keith is wearing sheer black panties, scalloped in lace. They do so little to hide his excitement. Hunk gently rubs at the smooth material and Keith bucks with a whine. “Are these the ones I bought you?”

He can’t find the words because his heart is jumping into his throat, so Keith just nods. It feels like hot stones are dropping in his belly when a smug little smirk crosses Hunk’s face as he strips down to his boxers, looming over Keith.

“You’re fucking hot,” Keith says, reaching up to knead at the hard muscle of Hunk’s pecs; he isn’t a delicate guy by any means, but goddamn if the size of Hunk’s body didn’t make him seem that way. He sneaks a look down to the thick shape of his cock against his boxers, a wet spot already forming at the tip. “Let me help you with that.”

“You wanna?” Hunk asks, easy, and Keith nods and he lets him guide him off the bed.

Keith drops to his knees in front of him and hooks his fingers underneath a waistband that reads Ralph Lauren, yanking the boxers down hard enough to tear but he’s too eager to pay it any mind.

He’s very familiar with Hunk’s body, all of it, but this is a sight he’ll never get tired of: Hunk, flushed dark with arousal, at full attention and dripping just for Keith. He gently squeezes at the base, his fingers just barely closing around it, and earns himself a sigh. His lips kiss reverently around the head right before he takes it in, making a show of pursing his lips, looking up to meet Hunk’s molten gaze.

A hand slides into his hair, tugs off the hair tie so it falls out messily, and then Hunk’s fingers are gripping on this side of not tight enough. Keith swirls his tongue, and bobs his head, tasting salt. He’s not quite to the root, so he tries again, and again, a little closer each time.

Hunk is groaning, his grasp tightening. “That’s it, gorgeous.” Keith shudders at the name, and the feeling of Hunk’s other hand resting on his hollowed cheek, a thumb pressing at his shape inside Keith’s hot mouth.

Keith would smile if he wasn’t occupied, so he moves his hands to rub at Hunk’s thick thighs and squeeze the supple flesh of his ass. The pulse of Hunk’s heavy cock on his tongue has him thrumming.

He slides out, kissing wet and messy along the side and giving a few lazy pumps. He laps eagerly at the head, then takes Hunk in deep until there’s coarse hair tickling at his nose.

“Fuck, Keith—!”

The tip nudges at his throat and Keith is huffing breaths out of his nose, swallowing once, twice—absolutely euphoric. When Hunk curls his fingers hard enough in his hair to hurt and pulls out Keith lets him, relaxing his throat as Hunk’s hips roll into his mouth. He’s moaning openly at the feeling, so caught up in how good it feels his eyes start rolling into the back of his head.  

Hunk cradles the back of Keith’s head while he comes down his throat and Keith swallows it all like a good boy. They just look at each other for a bit, red-cheeked and panting, until Hunk has Keith by the shoulders and is pulling him up so their lips can meet. He’s kissing Keith long and deep, licking the taste of salt out of his mouth.

“Thank you, baby,” he’s saying, low enough to bounce around Keith’s chest and make him preen. There’s little else he likes as much as making Hunk feel good, choke out his name the way he did and no one else’s.

Hunk keeps peppering his face with kisses, walking them backwards to the bed where Keith gets dropped again, and it’s only then that he realizes how hard he actually is. The panties are wet with precome and struggling against his erection.

“Almost forgot how beautiful you look,” Hunk breathes. He places a hand over Keith’s, easily dwarfing it. “Wearing the things I buy you, wearing things with my name on them—you look so gorgeous.” His eyes flicker to Keith’s gold chain, and Keith’s cock throbs with want.

“You’re talking way too much,” is his reply. “and not fucking me enough.”

Hunk has the good grace to pretend to look scandalized, and Keith sticks his tongue out at him. “No time for romance, huh?” he chuckles, but he’s already easing the panties down Keith’s thighs.

Keith shakes his head. “I’ve been thirsting all day for you, so help me quench it.” He reaches for the bedside table to grab lube and tosses it to Hunk while he laughs.

“That’s fair, but,” Hunk pops the cap open, “where are your manners, baby?”

Right, it’s like that tonight. Keith should behave, so he can get what he wants. He stretches sensually, and puts on puppy eyes.

“Please, daddy?” he asks, exaggerating the whine in his voice almost comically. “Fuck me?”

“That’s more like it,” Hunk says, pushing on Keith’s knee to spread him open and touching slick fingers to his hole. Keith jerks at the cold but the lube warms up to him easy enough since he’s always run hot. Excitement builds in his bones and buzzes in his ears as Hunk teases his rim, coaxing him to relax. His middle finger presses inside and Keith arches up off the bed just like that. Hunk’s fingers are thick, and ten times better than Keith’s own or any of his toys.

“You’re excited,” Hunk comments, lilting, and still infuriatingly lazy in his movements.

“Shut up,” Keith says, embarrassed. “It’s been a while.” Hunk hums in agreement, then slips another finger alongside the first, moving in circles and scissoring him open, painfully slow, and giving himself a few tugs. Keith is not a patient man, but Hunk is, and he loves to take his time on him. The pace of Keith’s heart makes him feel like there’s no time to take, he’s so hard it hurts; for all his generosity, Hunk is real stingy with the instant gratification.

A moment passes, then Keith is rocking his hips desperately and asking for a third and thankfully, _thankfully,_ Hunk doesn’t tease but rather obliges him, going straight for his prostate and making Keith wail. He presses hard on it, over and over until Keith starts seeing spots, until he’s trembling. Keith slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle his whines but it hardly helps; he does this every time and isn’t sure why he bothers anymore.

“Don’t,” he chokes out, “N-not so much, I’m gonna—I’m gonna co—”

Hunk withdraws his fingers with a filthy sound. “No, you’re not.” He squeezes out some more lube and uses it to slick up his cock, thumbing at the head just before lining himself up with Keith’s waiting hole. “Not from my fingers, at least.”

He pushes in with a groan, and Keith nearly sobs. Hunk is so thick, hot, he can feel every inch dragging along his insides and it feels so fucking good once he’s bottomed out. He’s so full he can barely breathe.

“You’re okay, baby?” Hunk asks, pushing back Keith’s sweaty hair before before locking their hands together. Keith can feel the rough calluses on both their palms, and the soft skin at the meat of their heels.

“I’m fine,” Keith breathes, and pulls Hunk down to kiss him hard. “Now start moving, please, because I wanna come _so bad.”_

Hunk smiles down at him in a way that says _whatever you want,_ and gives Keith a gentle little peck on the forehead that doesn’t at all prepare him for the brutal pace he sets with his hips, raising Keith up and throwing his legs over his shoulders so he can can hit deeper, Keith arching up until they’re chest to chest, his toes flexing and curling as he throws his head back to wail.

“Baby boy, you feel so good.” Hunk’s hand brushes up and down Keith’s flank, and Keith resents how steady his voice is when he’s so lit up he’s ready to forget his own name. “You always take me so well.”

“ _Daddy,_ ” Keith whines, clutching at Hunk’s hand and the sheets above his head, and it occurs to him he should really try to control himself and stave off his orgasm, drag this out just a little bit longer because it’s so good, the hot slide of their bodies and Hunk’s musky smell as he presses his lips to the side of Keith’s head and whispers little sweet nothings.

But the thought goes to hell when Hunk decides to take Keith into his other hand, and Keith comes with a shout, bearing down on Hunk’s cock and drawing out a groan.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, and fucks Keith through it with increasingly jerky motions and the feel of it all is almost too much, the stretch too much, but he rocks down best he can until he feels Hunk spilling too, gasping “I love you,” into Keith’s sweaty hair.

His eyes already feel heavy, sweat becoming tacky on his skin, but Keith still finds it in himself to say it back. Hunk kisses his cheek—they’re always kissing, aren’t they?—and gets up, coming back with a warm washcloth to clean him up.

He’s chuckling, and tossing Keith a worn t-shirt to sleep in. “Did I really tire you out that much, tootsie roll?” he asks, snarky, pulling on a new set of boxers and flinging himself into Keith’s lap.

Keith clicks his tongue, flicking Hunk on the forehead—”Yeowch, Keith!”—and glaring down at him over crossed arms. “Shh. It's not the same without you.”

“D’awww,” Hunk puts on another one of his stupid voices that Keith likes to laugh at while lying that he hates. “Widdle Keef miss me?” He reaches up to tug lightly at his bangs.

Scrunching his nose, Keith teases his nails along Hunk’s scalp, before leaning down to press his lips to his forehead. His skin is tangy with sweat, but Keith doesn’t really mind if it’s Hunk. Nevertheless, he says, “You stink.”

Hunk scoffs in reply, faking offense. “Me? Never!”

Keith eyes him.

“...You wanna take a bubble bath?”

“Are you joking? _Duh.”_

At that, Hunk shoots up, laughing giddily, takes Keith by the wrist, and leads him to the bathroom where a pool-sized tub awaits.

Yeah, he’s pretty spoiled.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> not sure when the last time i wrote a proper fic was


End file.
